


Shadows of the Past

by Odderancy (dreamcatchers_and_chocolate)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Death, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutilation, Nightmares, OT3, One Shot, Polyamory, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Terrorism, spoilers for dr1 and dr2 obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamcatchers_and_chocolate/pseuds/Odderancy
Summary: Despair has been defeated, Makoto Naegi lives with the loves of his life, and all is well. But the past lingers in all of their minds, and sometimes it forces itself up to the surface
Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	Shadows of the Past

_Light. Then darkness. And then another flash of light. A terrible noise, the animalistic screeching from a human being torn apart. The deafening sound of a building collapsing, killing all who had searched shelter inside of it. Men, women, children. The landscape in front of him was a war zone, blood splattered everywhere and broken and contorted bodies spread over the ground, some draped over torn-down walls. A skyscraper set on fire lit up the night like a giant torch as people, desperate, jumped from its windows only to be crushed when they hit the ground far below._

_Rescue workers from the Future Foundation waited at his side, and when it was clear that nothing else was going to explode, he sent them toward the building, searching for survivors. A vain hope, probably. But he had to keep it alive nonetheless. Without hope, they were nothing. No more than those who had succumbed to Junko’s despair._

_So he kept his hopes up as the workers listened for screams and wails, and he kept an eye out over the area. Kazuichi Souda, a Remnant of Despair, was long gone, just as always. It had been a timed bomb, and they had focused on trying to get the building evacuated when a report told them he had been there – but they hadn’t been in time._

_But some had tried to chase him down, a small group led by Kyoko. He’d received her message, though; they had lost him. He’d disappeared into the forest, where no one would be surprised if one of Gundham Tanaka’s many animals had whisked him away to safety somehow._

_Yet again, the former students of Hope’s Peak turned harbingers of the apocalypse had evaded them._

_Something grabbed onto his pant leg, and he twisted around, heart in his throat. The sight that met him as he looked down would have made him vomit only a few years ago, but now, he had gotten used to it. It never got any easier, though, even if his body no longer reacted much. A young woman laid on the ground in front of him, blood spilling from where her eye had been. Half her face was torn away, but she was gripping onto his pant leg desperately. Her other arm was folded in front of her, and a breath of horror escaped him. A pale child laid there, curled up. An infant._

_“Please,” she wheezed, and he nodded mutely, reaching down to take the baby into his arms. To his relief, it was breathing, but only barely. Alive, but only for a short while more if it didn’t receive help. When she saw her baby twitch in his arms, she exhaled. Relaxed. And she didn’t move anymore._

_He stumbled back from the corpse, having to tear his pant leg out of her grip, and then hurried over to the medical tents. A doctor took the child, whisking it away toward whatever medical equipment they had managed to get at hand so quickly. Hopefully, it would live._

_A few survivors had been pulled from the hell in front of them, and he watched in mute horror as mangled people, screaming from horror and pain, were laid out on white sheets on the ground once the beds were all occupied. The children received the few pillows they had._

_An utter hopelessness washed over him for only a second, before he shook his head hard, looking around for something to do. They were going to win, he knew they would. They had to. He and his friends had not survived the Killing School Life only for the world Junko left behind to defeat them._

_Hope. They had to have hope._

_…but sometimes it was hard, even for him._

_Even for the one Kyoko had called the Ultimate Hope_.

Waking up wasn’t violent, this time. Makoto slowly blinked as sleep left him, and lifted his hand to find that his cheeks were tearstained. The wetness itched on his cheeks, and he turned around, sniffing quietly, to grab more blanket to wipe off his face.

The movement was apparently enough, though. Kyoko, who had been asleep a second ago, looked at him. The sight of her face, with her white hair spread over her pillow, the straps of her pyjama tank top peeking out among the strands, made something loosen in him, and the knot of fear in his stomach suddenly felt ever so slightly easier to bear. Concern showed on her face as she reached out, wiping off his cheek with the back of her gloved fingers. She still didn’t like looking at her own hands, even in bed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Makoto shook his head, unable to reply for a moment. But as she opened her mouth to ask again, he mumbled, “Nightmares.”

She looked at him, and then sat up. “Let’s go make some tea.”

Even though he felt bad for waking her up so early – a glance at the clock told him it was only four in the morning – he knew she wouldn’t accept any arguments. She had that look on her face. With a nod, he got out of bed. As they left the room, he tip-toed so he could kiss her cheek.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t be stupid, Makoto.”

Her frank answer brought a faint smile to his face, despite the images still playing out in front of him every time he as much as blinked. The memories.

Out in the kitchen, he moved to put on the kettle before she could. If he was going to force her to get out of bed at this early an hour, at least she wasn’t going to have to do their tea. Anyway, he was slightly better at it – his mother had taught him and Komaru all her tricks, which she had learnt from _her_ mother. The thought of her had finally stopped being painful, and only brought back the happy times instead, before the Tragedy.

Kyoko sat down by the kitchen table, yawning, and he smiled. It was _their_ kitchen table. Something as simple as that still made him unimaginably happy. As the kettle started screeching, he quickly removed it from the heat to avoid waking the third person in their apartment up, and poured them two coups of tea. Valerian tea, for good sleep.

“So, what did you dream about this time?” she finally asked as they both sat down. The cup rested between his hands, warming him, and he breathed out. A cloud of vapor rose from the cup as he did.

But before he got the chance to reply, an annoyed voice came from the entrance. “What are you two doing here? It’s _four_ in the morning.”

Both of them turned, Kyoko looking fondly irritated and Makoto smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry, Bya. Did the kettle wake you?”

Sitting down next to them, dressed in a black silk pyjamas, Byakuya frowned. “Yes, it did. Obviously. And if you’re going to be making tea in the middle of the night and waking me up from it, you ought to make me a cup as well.”

“Makoto, don’t you dare get up for him.”

With a chuckle, Makoto disobeyed his fiancée’s orders to grab a cup for his fiancé. A black yunomi that had been salvaged from the old Togami manor. Byakuya refused to drink from the western-style, cheaper tea cups he and Kyoko usually had their middle-of-the-night-tea in, just because it had been the only ones they could get their hands on when they had their tiny apartment in the Future Foundation’s headquarters, and throwing them away seemed wrong. Byakuya had at the time said he would rather die than stoop so low.

Eventually he’d been forced to use them, though, since they had nothing else. Kyoko had looked extremely smug about it.

When Makoto handed him a mug, he nodded in thanks, grumpy as ever, though the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile when Makoto kissed his cheek. “So? Are you going to tell me why you are up at this hour?”

It wasn’t like they already knew it, not really – all three of them suffered from what they had been through, and they all knew it came to Makoto through nightmares. “I dreamt about the Nagoya bombings,” he admitted quietly.

“That was horrible.” Kyoko reached out to squeeze his hand. “But we did what we could. And you saved that baby’s life.”

“I mean, not really. It was her mother who did. I just carried her the last few meters.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “And if you hadn’t been there and done that, she would have died. She only had minutes to live. Sometimes you are so terribly dull.”

“Ah…” He smiled apologetically again. “Sorry.”

Kyoko slapped Byakuya over his head, and he scowled at her, but his expression softened after a moment. With a sigh, he put an arm over Makoto’s shoulders, allowing him to lean against his chest. He had gotten much touchier over time, although he still was nowhere near as affectionate as Makoto, or even Kyoko. His childhood had messed him right up, in his own way. But then again, all of them were messed up. There probably wasn’t a human alive who wasn’t, except the very youngest.

They were just going to have to live with it. And be grateful that they could. That they were alive.

“And I’m sorry I keep waking you both up.” Guilt washed over him as he looked at both his partners, and the dark bags beneath their eyes as they sat there with him. Byakuya’s hair was messed up, a far cry from the neat style he kept it in during daytime, and Kyoko’s eyes were drooping. And yet they were here with him, because he had a nightmare. “I love you both.”

“I love you too,” Kyoko told him, taking his hand. Hers was warm, and it was comforting. “And don’t you dare feel sorry about this. We’re doing it because we love you.”

“She is correct.” Makoto blinked in surprise as he felt Byakuya kiss the top of his head. That was a rare form of affection. “You would do tenfold for us.” The arms around him tightened, and then Byakuya suggested, “Although Miss Detective here and I do not much care for sharing a bed, perhaps you would feel better with us both there.”

“I think that is a good idea.” Kyoko nodded. “Let’s do that.”

Neither of them listened to his protests as they finished their tea and went back to Kyoko’s bedroom. Neither seemed to listen to him explaining that he didn’t want to make them uncomfortable, that it wasn’t necessary – the two of them were not dating, after all, and had only relatively recently even admitted to enjoying each other’s company at all. Just before he got engaged with them both, in fact.

But then he was pulled into the large bed with its black and purple duvet in Kyoko’s room, and his back pressed against Byakuya’s chest and Kyoko was in front of him, kissing his nose, and he couldn’t help but relax. It was warm, and both of the people he loved the most except for his sister were there, and even the back of his mind had to admit that this was _safe_. They were _all_ safe. The Tragedy was over. Hope had won.

They had won.

“You’re the best,” he mumbled, his eyes already drooping closed.

“I am aware,” came Byakuya’s amused, but gentle, voice from behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't believe I wrote new fic but here we are. I do love these three very much.


End file.
